


four instances of a favor

by shippingParaphernalia



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Critical Role Spoilers, One Shot, Other, Pre-Stream (Critical Role), Reincarnation, There are no happy endings here we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingParaphernalia/pseuds/shippingParaphernalia
Summary: “Would you ever let me die?”The question is asked innocently enough, but it still gives Caleb pause. He turns to look at Nott, but she doesn’t meet his glance. Her feet dangle over the tavern table she’s sitting on. At her side, her flask lies, their cause for visit.Caleb nods. “Ja,” he says flatly. “Over my dead body.”(A prompt given to me from @idonottlikethishellsite on tumblr: "from the list of shit i hope never actually happens– been thinking a lot about how reincarnate is the lowest lvl spell that could change nott into something other than a goblin but would require her to die first. the thought of nott purposely wanting to use that spell and trying to talk caleb into it keeps me up nights")





	four instances of a favor

**Author's Note:**

> Quick author notes: the timeline skips a lot & I used greek for halfling because why not  
> WARNINGS for lowkey suicidal thoughts but generally just trying to convince yourself you’re okay with dying, and some mentioned but not very descriptive wounds.
> 
> Ya girl's back at it with her unresolved, up to interpretation, lowkey OOC angst!
> 
> -Georgie

“Would you ever let me die?”

The question is asked innocently enough, but it still gives Caleb pause. He turns to look at Nott, but she doesn’t meet his glance. Her feet dangle over the tavern table she’s sitting on. At her side, her flask lies, their cause for visit.

Caleb nods. “Ja,” he says flatly. “Over my dead body.”

~~ (Not that it’s worth much.) ~~

Nott smiles at him, but it’s strained. Her lips are clamped over her teeth like she’s holding a secret. “That’s very sweet.”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason.” Her fingers twist into each other, and she fiddles with them aimlessly. Her feet have started to swing under the table. “Just one of those silly thoughts I get sometimes, Caleb, you know me.”

“Mm.” He does know her, and that’s what worries him. It’s only been a few weeks, and already he knows her like the back of his hand, like the color of the sky. He’d know her blind or deaf. Which, by the way, he’d have to be in order to believe such an obvious lie.

He lets it drop anyway. “Long day tomorrow,“ he says instead, and carefully watches for her reaction. “Lots of shopping.”

It worries him more when she gives him none. "Yeah,” she says. Absently. Like she’s still turning something over in her mind, molding it into shape. Caleb knows what’s it like to overthink things, ~~(he knows it far too well)~~ and he knows it’s not what’s happening here– but for the life of him he can’t figure out what is. 

“Yeah,” he echoes in her voice. And then, returning to his own: “I was thinking we could stop by a book shop I found on the way here. It sold many things– mostly books– but I think you would like it.” He tries for a smile. It falls short. They always do. “Lots of trinkets. For your collection.”

Nott’s expression remains blank, but by the way her ears droop Caleb knows his approach backfired. _Shit._

“My collection,” she agrees, fake cheerfully. It sounds as far from sincere as he’s ever heard her. “I do love trinkets.”

Caleb drops the pretense. “Look,” he says hesitantly, “I know I am not the best person to talk to about… things. Or stuff. Or anything, really. But if there is something troubling your mind, something that I am able to help with–”

“No, no,” Nott interrupts him. She jumps off the table and dusts herself off briskly. “I’m fine. I swear it. Just drank a drop too much, and well…” She gestures to herself sheepishly. “I’m not always a happy drunk, I guess. I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

“Ah,” Caleb says. He wants to believe her. He wants it more than anything else right now. “That is all?”

“That’s all,” Nott promises. She leans up, on tiptoes, and beckons for him to bend down. Caleb does, and before he knows it a sudden warmth tinges his forehead and Nott’s pulling away with a look that he can only describe as familiar. He blinks at her owlishly, and she smiles. Still through clamped lips.

“Night, Caleb,” she says, turning on her heel and already making her way across the tavern to where they’ve scoured up enough coin to book a room for the night.

"Good night,“ he says. He doesn’t think she heard him.

Slowly, he reaches up and presses his fingers ~~(the fingers of a murderer)~~ against his forehead. The warmth has already left it. 

"Good night,” he repeats to no one in particular. It is a good night. No, maybe good is not that right word. It is a strange night, is what it is. Only on strange nights do your little goblin friends ask you odd questions and don’t tell you what’s wrong and kiss you on the forehead ( ~~it’s so familiar, like his own mother’s when she’d tuck him in at night~~ ) before going to sleep at 10 pm.

_But then again,_ he reasons, _she gave you her excuse. Who are you not to trust her? She says she drank too much, and this is another side to her you have yet to see. Just because you know her a few weeks does not actually mean you know her a lifetime. Who are you to claim that she’s lying?_

He stands up, a little more satisfied with his choice, and goes to head after where Nott left. The flask shines forlornly as he passes it, and he takes it by habit, shaking his head a bit at his little friend’s forgetfulness.

Then he stops.

The flask is still full.

***

“D'you think you’d be upset?”

They’ve been on the road a while now, and Caleb is getting antsy. Only a while ago did they encounter a pack of vicious hyena-like creatures (he thinks they’re called gnolls) and only a while ago did he have to watch as his little friend nearly got slashed in two. He tried to patch her up, tried to look past the amounts of crimson pouring out of her and do his best, but he’s no cleric. Just a wizard.

~~ (Just nothing.) ~~

Nott trails after him now, her eyes drooping and with the faint tinge of iron to her scent. As she asks the question, she sways a bit, and Caleb instantly slows down.

“Upset?” he asks. “Over what?”

Nott shrugs. “Me. I dunno. If I died.”

Caleb stares at her, but she’s resolute in not meeting his gaze. Something about the whole scene rings familiar in his mind, and he strains, trying to remember where they might have had this conversation before. A tavern? No matter.

“Ja,” he says, slowly. “I think I would be very upset.”

“Oh.” She rubs at her eyes. “Well, er… how upset? Like on a one to ten scale, maybe? Can I get an approx–”

“Nott,” Caleb says, and gods help him he’s already starting to get upset thinking about it, “Are you planning something?”

Nott has the nerve to look offended. “What? No!”

“Then what are you asking me for?”

“It just doesn’t make sense to me, that’s all.” Nott shrugs, and her footsteps quicken a bit. Caleb picks up the pace as well. “I mean, you could always just revive me, right? You’re a wizard. You’re magic–” (and oh, how beautiful the word sounds on her lips, like glitter and awe and everything magic was, once, everything magic should be) “–and you’re powerful. I don’t think I’d be gone for long.”

~~ (Too powerful, some might say.) ~~

Caleb swallows, and tastes bile at the back of his throat. “Yes, that is true. But I’m no cleric, Nott. And the idea of me reviving you does not cancel out how horrifying you dying would be.”

A pause.

“Do you.  _Want_ to die?”

No response. Not even a whisper. Caleb’s heart sinks, and for a second, flames flicker in his eyes. He thinks about Nott, jumping in front of him to confront the gnolls. Nott, completely fine with the idea of being torn apart if it meant he would get away safe. 

He grabs her arm. She freezes, and Caleb instantly adjusts his grip so it’s not hurting her.

“I do not know what you’re hiding,” he says softly. “But please. You know you can talk to me, ja? You know that I am here for you? I would do everything in my power for you. You know that, don’t you?”

She looks up at him, just two golden eyes blinking in the dark. The mask hides her lower face, and he hates it. Hates not knowing what she’s thinking. Hates only being able to read half of her.

“Yes,” she finally says, and relaxes in his grip. “I know. Thank you, Caleb.”

He lets go. That’s not the answer he wanted, but he’s never been one to push the matter. And Nott seems tired as it is right now.

“Let’s camp out here for the night.”

“Okay.”

She helps him light the fire.

For once, his parents are the last thing on his mind.

***

“Caleb!”

Caleb looks up reluctantly from where he’s poured over the newest book he’s bought. It’s a fascinating text all about transmutation and history, and it’s wrapped up in the kind of red leather case that makes his heart skip a beat. Being broken out of the trance that comes with it is beyond infuriating.

He opens his mouth to snap out a ‘go away i’m reading’, but stops when he sees Nott’s face. It’s flushed and excited, pupils round and smile stretching from ear to ear. Something good must have happened. And he always has time for a shred of good news.

He slowly puts the book down and beckons her inside. She looks like she might explode.

“You seem… happy,” he says.

She nods, head bobbing as if on a spring. “As a matter of fact, I am!” she says giddily. “Read this.”

She shoves a bright blue book in his hands (where did she even get that) and waits, bouncing on the balls of her feet impatiently as Caleb examines it. It’s a fairly old book, nothing like the red one Caleb was just reading but still in its decades. He squints at the letters before identifying them as Halfling.

He doesn’t read Halfling.

Where on earth did Nott get this book?

He hands it back to her in confusion. “I appreciate the literary enthusiasm,” he says slowly, “But Halfling is a tongue I do not speak.”

“No, I know that,” Nott says in a voice that implies she did not, in fact, know that. “But it’s a really easy passage, just go to page 117 and you’ll see, I’ve taught you all the words you need to know!”

Caleb sighs and obliges her. Page 117 is in the middle of the book, and based on the scribbled in pencil marks and circled words, he has a feeling it’s also the most read part.

He starts to read.

_**Reincarnation** _

 

  * **Casting Time: 1 ώρα**


  * **Έκταση: Touch**


  * **Components: Σπάνια oils and αλλά πράγματα αξίας at least 1,000 gold και τα λοιπά, δεντρολίβανο**


  * **Duration: Instantaneous**


  * **Εσύ touch a dead humanoid ή ενα piece of a dead humanoid. Εξαρτιόταν ότι the creature has been dead no longer than 10 days, the spell forms a new ηλικιωμένο body for it and then καλεί την soul to enter το body. If the target’s soul isn’t free or willing να το κάνει, the spell fails and**



 

He closes the book.

“Nott,” he says, and the dread coiling around his heart is all too familiar to him, all too cold and heavy, “what is this?”

Nott grins. “It’s a spell, Caleb! A spell that can change people! Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Yes,” Caleb says, and pinches the bridge of his nose. His parents’ form flickers in front of him when he closes his eyes. After a second, Nott’s joins them.

He hands her back the book and stands up. His foot has fallen asleep, and he tries to shake it awake again but it’s too late, now his other foot is asleep too and he’s numb all over, numb and cold and confused.

“Why did you show me this?” he asks.

Nott looks at him like it should be obvious. “For me,” she says simply. “I didn’t think it was real at first. I don’t know much about magic and spells and things, so I thought maybe it wasn’t. But then I looked more carefully, searched a few bookstores, nicked a few tomes and– here it is. The spell that can change me. Reincarnation!”

She does a giddy little jump. Caleb can only stare. He knows how Nott feels about herself. He knows her hopes and dreams, even if they’d never crossed her lips to him. He knows more than she thinks. He always does.

But in this moment, he feels like he doesn’t even know who he’s talking to.

“Nott,” he says. “This spell requires way too many things than we can afford.”

Her ears droop, but she’s still smiling, undeterred. “Like what?”

“Oils. 1000 gold. More things I cannot read.”

Nott laughs, and it’s all wrong, this whole conversation is wrong and Caleb wants to go back to reading his red book and acting like this never happened. “Oh, don’t worry, I have quite a bit of coin saved on the side. Just a few more months and I’ll probably have even more than that book asks for!”

“And the oils?”

“I’ll nick them. I dunno. I’ll find a way.” She grins. “Oils, Caleb, really, is that what you think is gonna throw me off after all this time?”

“No,” Caleb says, and he hears a faint ringing in his ears, “But I thought the fact that your corpse is required might.”

For the first time, Nott looks a little disturbed. Not a lot. It’s barely noticeable, just a quick flit across her big yellow eyes, but it’s enough to make Caleb feel better, if only for a moment.

Then the doubt is broken, Nott is clearing her throat, and the ringing in Caleb’s ears has returned.

“Well,” she says simply, “you thought wrong.”

And Caleb leaves the room.

***

“I’ll do it without you if I have to.”

Caleb doesn’t even turn his head. It’s way past midnight where they’re staying, and both of them should be sleeping– but of course, neither of them are.

Neither of them have for what seems like months.

There’s a moment before Nott speaks again, her raspy voice slicing through the silence like a knife. “I don’t want to. But I will.”

“How will you do that,” Caleb says flatly.

A muffled huff from Nott informs him that his friend isn’t sure either. “I don’t know yet,” she finally admits. “But I’ll find a way. I always do.”

“It’s a powerful spell.”

“I have powerful friends.”

“It’s difficult.”

“It’s worth it for me.”

Caleb nearly pinches his nose on instinct, but stops just in time. He can’t bear to close his eyes anymore. They’ve started playing tricks on him again. They’ll show him Nott burned into the insides of his eyelids, Nott bleeding out on the ground and Nott with her little limbs all twisted up and Nott with fire consuming her from the inside out–

He realizes his mouth has gone dry. He swallows.

“You want to die,” he says. It’s not a question.

He can almost hear Nott’s shrug, almost hear the flicker of doubt smothered under fierceness. “No. No, I don’t want it. But I’m willing to.” A small laugh. “I’ve always been willing to. For Jester, and Beau, and Fjord, and you–” her voice catches a bit, but she plows on “–and Molly… why can’t I do it for myself for once?”

Caleb doesn’t answer her. He doesn’t know what he’d say.

There’s another beat of silence before Nott speaks again.

“I was so happy when I heard about it,” she confesses quietly. “I didn’t even know about the coming back as me part. I thought that when I died, I’d come back as someone brand new. And I was _fine_ with that, I really was, but then I thought of you and I didn’t tell you about it and I dropped my research because I knew you’d get cross, and I knew you’d get sad, but then you said you’d do everything in your power for me, that one night we fought the gnolls together, don’t you remember, and I started to look into it more actively, and I thought–” A sigh. “I don’t know what I thought.”

She rolls over from where she’s curled at the bottom of the bed like a cat, and even through the dark Caleb can feel her eyes, two golden pinpricks almost like lanterns trained on him.

“Please, Caleb,” she whispers. “I need this. I’ve always needed this.”

“But I need _you_ ,” he says. It’s such a selfish thing to say, such a selfish reason, 

~~ (but he’s always been a pretty selfish man, hasn’t he?) ~~

“I’ll still be here,” she says. “You’d bring me back as me. It’d still be me.”

“My hands were built for destroying,” he says. The words burn as he speaks them but he knows they need to be said. “Not for creating. And any creation built from destruction is a creation I want no part in.”

His breath rattles in his chest as he says his next sentence, all in one go, not letting it burn anymore than it has to: “I can’t do this for you, Nott. I’m sorry.”

Silence. It stretches on for so long that Caleb half thinks Nott’s fallen asleep, and a part of him hopes she has, hopes so desperately that she’ll let this conversation be nothing but a bad dream in the morning.

But hope’s done nothing but fail him so far, and tonight does not intend to prove an exception.

“Well,” Nott says, and it’s the emptiest Caleb’s ever heard her, “Then I guess I’ll have to find someone that can.”

They don’t speak again.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, comments make my week uwu~


End file.
